


Climb In The Backseat

by thelilacfield



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Blind Date, Drunkenness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 19:12:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4448780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilacfield/pseuds/thelilacfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a stranger makes the world move under your feet and you never see him again, he's not the person you expect one of your friends to set you up on a blind date with almost a year later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Climb In The Backseat

We’re on a blind date - but wait, aren’t you the guy that went down on me in a back alley behind a club a year ago?…what do you mean “which one”? au | kurt x blaine

* * *

Kurt is watching back to back episodes of  _Say Yes To The Dress_ , cosied up in a blanket and crunching his way through a packet of Oreos when Elliott sits down heavily on the end of his bed, towelling his hair dry with one hand, and snatches the litre-bottle of Coke nestled between Kurt’s knees. “This is an intervention,” he says sternly, and Kurt just rolls his eyes. “Kurt, you’re a gorgeous, young, healthy guy and yet you’re watching reality TV alone on a Sunday morning instead of saying goodbye to last night’s hook-up and possibly getting in a shower quickie.”

“You don’t need to boast about your Saturday night routine, those headphones you so considerately got me don’t do anything,” Kurt grumbles, continuing to watch the overly-tanned bride looking for her dream dress.

“See, you’re grumpy!” Elliott shouts triumphantly. “This wouldn’t happen if you got laid more often. Look at Santana. Haven’t you noticed how much more peaceful it’s been at potluck dinners since she got back with Brittany and is too busy canoodling to bitch anyone out?”

“Did you seriously just say canoodling?”

“Don’t change the subject!” Leaning back on his hands, Elliott runs his gaze over Kurt in that way that always makes his heart skip a beat. “Look, I know a guy. I promise I have never slept with him, he’s just this adorable kid who always serves me at the corner store. Just try going on a date, you’ll feel so much better. I mean, how long has it been? Have you even gotten any since you broke up with Adam?  _Last year_?”

Kurt’s mind flickers to that club, after Rachel’s triumph. The glitter and lights and topless dancers. The shots across the bar, salt on Tina’s exposed collarbone, Rachel’s drunken cackle of glee when the bartender gave Kurt the drink ‘with compliments from the gentleman at the end of a bar’. Dancing freely, hands heavy at his hips, lips against his ear and that soft voice encouraging him to ‘shake that ass for me, sweetheart’. Santana grabbing him, eyes gleaming as she pushed the condom into his hand and waved away his questions about why she had one at all. Swaying on his feet, feeling sick and dizzy, an arm around his waist and soothing murmurs as he was guided into the back alley and the cool night. Their eyes meeting and their bodies coming together as if pulled by magnets, Kurt’s fingers in a stranger’s hair as they kissed so desperately, pulling at each other’s clothes. His fingernails scratching over the brick wall, leaving them ragged and one broken, as this stranger he’d known maybe two hours at most gave him the best blowjob of his life, looking at the dark head between his legs through half-closed eyes.

Shaking off the memory and inching his laptop subtly over his crotch, Kurt just lifts his gaze to Elliott’s and sighs, “Fine, I’ll go on this date if it’ll get you off my back.”

“Thank you!” Elliott beams at him, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I’m gonna get you laid so good.” Nodding and smiling for his sake, Kurt can’t help but think that, no matter what, he’s always going to think of that reckless night, and endlessly regret not getting a number or even a name before Sam decided they’d all had enough and dragged them home.

Elliott sets him up for Friday night, and when he gets back from class Kurt spends two hours getting ready with an increasing sense of dread weighing him down. In the end, after panicking for several minutes, he texts Santana, Brittany and Rachel, and they agree on a codeword that he can send to any of them with minimal fuss and they’ll call with some kind of out if his date turns out to be creepy, boring, rude, ignorant or any of Kurt’s other dealbreakers.

The restaurant Elliott chose for them is one their group has gone to on those Monday nights when no one feels like hosting the traditional potluck dinner. It’s an Italian - least likely to cause fights - and relatively cosy without being too small. Well-lit, nice atmosphere, polite staff and relatively free of obnoxious tourists or loud families - perfect for a date. Elliott had instructed Kurt to wear his black cat pin - a present from Brittany - for luck and so his blind date could identify him, and informed him that his date would be wearing a bowtie.

“Table booked under Gilbert,” he says to the pretty hostess, who nods eagerly and escorts him to a quiet table tucked away near the back. Unwinding his scarf, Kurt can’t help but be grateful to Elliott for being so learned in the art of first dates and choosing this place so well.

“You must be Kurt.” The man who the voice belongs to is wearing a beautiful bowtie of dark red silk with his dark grey blazer, the cut drawing attention to the difference in the width of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist. Kurt gives him one of his patented seductive smiles, glancing up from beneath his lashes, and almost knocks his glass off the end of the table. Those eyes, huge and shining and lined by long eyelashes - they’re unmistakable. His ears ring as arousal whiplashes down his spine at the memory of those eyes shining up at him in the gloom of a grubby alleyway, the eyelids falling closed in ecstasy when Kurt dropped to his knees and jerked the stranger off through his pants, eager and clumsy. “I’m Blaine.”

“Nice to meet you,” Kurt says quickly, his tongue feeling too thick in his mouth with shock. “If you’ll excuse me, I just have to make a call. One of my friends fell during a dance rehearsal and I’m waiting for news.”

“Oh,” Blaine says, his eyes going wide and so touchingly full of concern that Kurt wants to smack his forehead off their table. “If you want to reschedule, I’ll more than understand.”

“No!” He might be a little too forceful, so he smiles quickly and says, “It’s really alright, she’s not in any life-threatening condition. I won’t be long.”

Zigzagging through the restaurant at a speed slightly below running, Kurt crashes into the bathroom and locks himself in a stall, dialling Santana’s number and praying hard that she’ll pick up. “Santana’s phone, Brittany speaking!”

“Hey sweetie, can you put San on?”

Picking at a loose thread on his shirt, Kurt is surprised when Santana is there almost immediately, barking, “What? I’m busy, Hummel,” is his ear.

“Well thank you for taking an intermission from your fabulous sex life to take my call,” Kurt says, rolling his eyes even though she can’t see him. “Listen, remember when we went to that club after Rachel’s opening night? With the topless dancers?”

“Scandalous? With the swing? Yeah, I remember,” Santana says. “I had to remind Rach several times that she shouldn’t get attached to the dancers since they’re paid to be nice to her.”

“Well, you know that stranger who bought me a drink and I was dancing with him and then you gave me a condom and told me to go for it?” Kurt says, and he can practically see the smirk spreading across Santana’s face. “Well, I did. I got all dizzy at one point and he took me outside and before I knew what was happening we were kissing and then he was on his knees and...well.”

“Oh my God, Kurt Hummel, you absolute whore!” Santana shrieks gleefully, laughing down the phone. “I am  _impressed_. Who knew the Queen of England could be so trashy? But wait, are you just calling to ’fess up? Real cute.”

“No, I’m calling because Elliott set me up on a blind date with that guy and I’m freaking out because I didn’t even know his name and he didn’t know mine and I don’t know what to do!” Breaking off, Kurt leans against the wall with a sigh to wait for Santana to stop laughing.

“Oh my God, what you do is just fucking go for it, babe!” she shouts in his ear. “Look, I remember dragging you into the cab and you were all wobbly and gazing into the distance. I thought you were just drunk, but if that was the aftermath of a quickie blowjob in an alleyway behind a club this guy’s gotta be worth at least one date.”

“As always, Santana, thank you for that advice, I don’t know why you don’t do this professionally,” Kurt says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ll let you get back to your very important sexual congress now.”

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he adjusts his pin and walks confidently back to Blaine, putting that extra sway into his hips and smiling at him as he sits down. “Shall we order?” he asks, and Blaine nods eagerly, all earnest and adorable and seemingly not the type of person to buy a complete stranger a drink and go down on them in an alleyway.

Much later, watching Blaine eating his tiramisu and toying with a slice of cheesecake, sipping his third glass of wine, Kurt finally says, “I think we’ve met before. It was in a club, last year. I was there with a group of my friends and you bought me a drink and we were dancing together. And we...um, well, we...did  _things_.” He lifts his eyebrows at Blaine, and watches the understanding flood into his eyes.

“Wait, which club?” he asks, and Kurt can feel his face fall. Of course, this seemingly sweet man - who he’s discovered attends NYU, loves musical theatre more than many things and would have bought a dog a long time ago if his landlord would allow it - who gave him such an incredible memory makes a habit of giving strangers pleasure in clubs. “Kurt, no, oh my God, I’m  _kidding_. Of course I remember you. Scandalous, April 26th. You were there with four girls and three guys, you were all very loud and overexcited and covered in glitter. I’d just broken up with my boyfriend, and I was very much in the screw him stage, so I bought you a drink. The rest of it - I didn’t expect it to happen, but I absolutely don’t regret it.”

“Oh.” Kurt just looks at Blaine, and then drops his fork with a loud clunk when Blaine’s foot presses against his ankle, slowly sliding up his leg. His face floods with heat, so fast that a server comes over to ask if he’s okay, and looks downright terrified at the squeaky, “I’m fine!” he gives in a reply.

“Can I offer you a ride home?” Blaine asks, and there’s no mistaking the look in  his hands. Summoning the server back, Kurt pays the bill and leaves a tip and practically drags Blaine out of the restaurant by his bowtie.

Keeping quiet and still in the passenger seat is difficult when Kurt is practically squirming with desire, but he manages it until Blaine pulls up outside his apartment block, and the disappointment is overwhelming. “I had a really amazing night,” he says, and Blaine’s smile is worth all the blue balls in the world. “I’d like to do this again.” Looking up at the apartment window to see Elliott’s light still on, he gathers his courage and asks, “Would you like to come up for a coffee?”

“Kurt, I should tell you something,” Blaine says, and Kurt just sighs, hoping that this truth isn’t some huge dealbreaker. That’d be just typical, someone he has incredible sexual chemistry with and actually likes ruined for him. “I have this policy where I don’t go to bed with guys until after the fifth date.”

“Oh, well that’s cool,” Kurt says, ignoring the small part of him that is screaming with rage. “I respect that.”

“However,” Blaine says, smirking at Kurt with dark eyes and wrapping a hand over the top of his thigh, “I don’t consider the backseat of my car to be breaking that rule.”

“Oh thank God,” Kurt sights, and barely has time to yank his blazer off and shove it beneath his seat before Blaine kisses him, desperation hot between them, and pulls him into the backseat, untucking his shirt and kissing down his neck, leaving Kurt a mewling, writhing, undone mess, clutching at Blaine’s shoulders and begging him to go on.

Gazing hazily down at Blaine’s head, bobbing as he goes down on Kurt with equal, if not more, enthusiasm as he did a year ago, Kurt spends a brief second of thought on how many breakfasts he is going to have to make to thank Elliott adequately for setting this night up. Then Blaine does something amazing with his tongue, and Kurt lets out a sound that’s somewhere close to a sob and grabs a handful of Blaine’s hair. “Please keep going, please,  _please_  Blaine.”

Pulling off to Kurt’s moan of anguish, Blaine crawls up his body and grits out, “You sound so sexy when you say my name,” before kissing him, and Kurt’s eyes roll back in his head as he simply surrenders.


End file.
